


Ruuen

by Ornery Otter (Greiver_Dhark)



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:44:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greiver_Dhark/pseuds/Ornery%20Otter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an island city stands the church castle Ruuen. The great stone walls keep out all but those who serve it, and a bare few who still worship the old religion. The city thrives around it, yet remains respectful and distant - for good reason. Ruuen is the reason the island stays afloat. A pity it takes so little in the end, to bring it all crashing down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruuen

To most, Ruuen was merely an obstacle. A large, ancient church castle that barely anyone frequented – it was almost entirely closed to the public and the religion it had once catered to had all but faded from memory, bar certain holiday celebrations and remembrances. Only true believers were allowed within the building and there were scarce few left. Now it was seen merely as a great barrier in the very heart of the city, its walls higher than any other, looming over them all where it stood at the highest point of the city.

The dark brick and dull sculptures could be seen from almost anywhere in the city, so great was the building. Though mostly square in shape the building was separated into wings from the central room, and many of the outer walls were rounded. Tight cobblestone streets separated Ruuen from any other building, a barrier keeping it apart from the rest of the city.

Despite its religious abandonment, the church castle was kept in good condition by a select few. Certain families and select individuals passed the roles down from one generation to the next. Such was not an advertised affair though; there was good reason that the old religion had been discouraged from the minds of the general population, leaving just enough there for there to be respect for the property and any religious undertakings.

It was because of Ruuen that the city didn’t sink. The whole city was an island, every millimetre of land covered with cobblestones or buildings. Wooden docks for boats all but filled the outer layer of the city, though the largest faced the nearest land mass some distance away.

To prevent the city from drifting away it was bound to the land by a long binding from the very top of Ruuen. Not with a metal chain but with thick fabric rope of sorts, large rectangular cuts that were traditional to the Ruuen magic. The binding was all but invincible, stretching above the city looking just the same as when it had first been placed. To any who had even a passing familiarity with Ruuen, the sight of such fabric was a common one – similar swaths were placed all around the church castle, both inside and out. Even more were displayed during religious festivals, though the designs on the fabric were long since considered mere attraction rather than having any true purpose.

Such wasn’t the case of course – the fabric and the designs upon them were hugely important, but it mattered little to the populace. So long as the people took no action against the church, there was no need to enlighten them. Thus the status quo was maintained and everyone’s lives carried on as normal.

There was a blip though. Just a little one really, but a blip all the same.

Previously Ruuen had been left all but entirely alone. With just a few people entering and leaving on a semi-regular basis there was rarely any activity to be seen within the old walls, never mind anything of interest. The most that could be seen was the rare time that the exterior walls were checked – usually an old man in the heavy robes of the religion would walk the paths built into the top of the walls.

That was no longer the case however. Someone much younger had taken up the task, but then would linger atop the walls. Previously only the elderly were typically seen coming and going from the building, certainly no one so young as the dark haired teen seen recently. Indeed seeing any youth with access to the church was unheard of. Though it was known for children of those who were allowed within Ruuen to take their children inside the walls, they certainly never came out again – except perhaps as adults.

This young man though, was seen increasingly regularly on the walls – far more often than the inspections required. He’d sit and look out at the city, and eventually head back inside again.

Of course seeing a teenager on the walls encouraged other teens to try it themselves, to climb up in concealed places. With disregard to the respect and avoidance that the rest of the city employed, the youths were soon seen habitually on or around Ruuen. Never inside – not only was the building fairly secure but few had the bravery, or foolishness, to do so. It was one thing to climb the walls where they could flee if necessary, but entering the castle proper? No one wanted to trap themselves.

Of course eventually such daring reaped some results – it wasn’t long before the teen who stood atop the walls encountered the adventurous youths. That was really when everything changed.

Not necessarily for the worst, really. The Ruuen boy was dexterous and brave. He climbed all within Ruuen as well, he said. Up to the hidden cubbyholes and the ornamentation that decorated everything. Though quiet, almost mute most of the time, the boy was always up for a race down the city.

Before long they were all familiar sights, no longer crouching like gargoyles atop Ruuen but instead racing down the steep slope from the castle, riding on boards with little wheels attached and generally making nuisances of themselves at speed.

He was accepted with little fanfare by the populace as the new boy who had appeared with the group. His silence and unnatural paleness ought to have unnerved people, but they didn’t detract from the sweetness of his smile, nor his genuine kindness. For all that the older generation wanted to avoid him for his connection to Ruuen, none could deny that he was a sweet, innocent boy.

It was for that reason that he was accepted by the city, welcomed even, despite how most of the religious folk were kept at a distance. His purity was incidentally also why he was allowed outside the castle walls too – not even the stone hearts of those bound to serve could deny him freedom so long as he performed his duties.

Typically when a child entered Ruuen, they were not seen again until they were in their thirties or forties, if at all. With rough, worn voices and a heavy, solemn aura around them they were easy to identify really. That and the clothing they wore – all made of the same fabric that was found only in Ruuen. Nobody had ever been considered ‘sweet’ or ‘innocent’ in relation to Ruuen before – if anything it was the opposite. Those who served the church castle oft seemed as though their eyes had been opened to horrors and could not again be closed. The burden of protecting the city was a heavy one and one bound to silence.

It was for that reason that the boy’s silence was unremarked upon. That the young boy was almost entirely incapable of speaking was not so strange, as it was clear that he was able to understand, and communicate in his own way the rare times he was inclined to.

Just as the boy became a regular sight outside the castle, so too were his new friends found around and sometimes even within Ruuen itself, with the boy as their guide. The boy knew the secret places of Ruuen and seemed happy enough to share with them a few hidden rooms and cubbies accessible only from the outside, within sealed off areas that were separate from the main part of the church castle. Concealed rooms were used as safe houses and stashes. It wasn’t so unusual to see the group of teens dash down a cobblestone path and disappear into a tiny window in the side of the castle, where the glass had been broken to allow them entry.

Inside Ruuen was even more stifling than its appearance outside. The rooms were dark, lit by gas lamps that cast great shadows. Huge swaths of the thick fabric the religion was known for could be found everywhere – decorated and hung up, or loose over the floor. The thick, pale fabric was one thing that the Ruuen boy didn’t allow the others to play with or really move at all. It was preferable even to step on the material rather than touch it with bare hands and move it aside.

The other teens didn’t understand of course, but they obeyed all the same because the expression on the boy’s face and the fact that he communicated such to them at all belied its importance. None of them understood the power of Ruuen, but they listened to the boy who did.

Of course children are wont to wander and such curiosity could only be sated for so long. Eventually the city teens were no longer satisfied with their hiding spots and secrets, and wished to know more about the great church castle they had begun encroaching inside of. It was then that the boys began venturing into other parts of Ruuen, leaving the small, safer areas that they had been allowed into. That was where it all went wrong

The first time the boys found their way into the very heart of the church castle there had been surprise all around. Unlike the forgotten areas they had been using the majority of Ruuen was in good condition, clean and tidy. There were certainly none of the piles of fabric left crumpled on the floor – instead they were all wrapped and secured in chambers, or hanging proudly from flag posts or over balconies.

They were also far more red than the beige shade they were typically seen as. Rather than having simple designs in the almost black shade that the outsiders were familiar with that hung on the walls outside, all the tapestries inside were a full, vibrant red.

Red like the fresh blood they could see spreading out from beneath the Ruuen boy as he lay atop a stone table that took centre place in the heart of the castle. His blood spilled down the stone beneath him and into the fabric that wrapped each of his unresisting wrists and ankles. The liquid spread down the fabric in unnatural patterns, twisting and swirling as if gravity was not the power directing it.

The blooding didn’t take long, only as long as you’d expect for a boy to bleed out from cuts to key arteries. As the boy began to lose consciousness the blood flow was stopped and the tapestries unwound from his limbs, the blood shining within and looking much unlike blood in fabric at all. Even the boy’s own clothes seemed to behave strangely to it, expelling every drop of blood onto the stone below and remaining untainted by the vibrant life that ought to cling and stain.

When the boy, pale as they were familiar but looking weak and worn, managed to stand and move away from the stone table, even the blood that had spread beneath him was gone. It was as if the stone itself had drank it all in, that which hadn’t been trapped within the fabric.

Terrified and traumatised by what they’d seen, the outsider youths all but pounced on the Ruuen boy the moment he returned to them in their hiding spot. They encouraged the boy to flee, demanded to know why he allowed himself to be hurt, why he had not fought and what sort of madness was happening within the castle that had blood behaving so unnaturally.

Distressed, the Ruuen boy could do little to explain. It wasn’t the blood that was unnatural, he managed to communicate, it was Ruuen itself. The boy was incapable of explaining further even with gestures or writings, for the magic that kept the island afloat did far more than that – it bound the voices of its followers, preventing him from divulging those secrets.

The boys fled Ruuen then, realising that their safe hideaway was not nearly so safe – the walls themselves were treacherous. They left behind the Ruuen boy who would not flee with them no matter how they begged and cajoled, unable even to consider it. He watched them leave and while he saw them again from time to time they were friends no longer. The boy was encouraged to remain within Ruuen even moreso and while the other boys still tried to get him to leave – slipping him notes and trying to lure him beyond the walls, he would not go.

Terrified for the Ruuen boy and of Ruuen itself along with those who served there, the youths sought information in the city, trying to understand exactly what they had discovered. Few would speak to them about it and only oblique references were found in any book outside the church castle’s walls. The boys didn’t give up even as months passed and eventually found someone who both knew of Ruuen and wasn’t bound to silence as those who served were.

The Count was a strange man, clearly foreign and clearly untrustworthy in the way that very wealthy men were. The Count made it clear that he had his own agenda and the slight smile on his face when they asked their questions showed them that he answered for his own amusement. The sharp smile and careful words were the same as they’d seen by taunting merchants, who would set them up for humiliation just to see them suffer for their own amusement, but knew they’d do it for whatever reward they’d promised to fill their bellies with.

Still, he was the only man who’d had any answers for them about Ruuen and the blood in the tapestries. They had no choice but to take his words and hope that whatever future entertainment their actions would provide to the Count would not come at too great a cost to themselves.

The Count told them of how it was the blood of those who served that was important. Just as they were bound to the church castle, it too was bound to them. The only people who could damage the castle or the island itself, were those who powered it with their blood. It was partly why they were bound so tightly – their throats tightening around the secrets they held, their hands stilled from writing them down.

Even their minds, the Count told them with feigned disinterest, were altered to prevent them from serving any but the castle’s interests. For most that meant becoming the solemn, serious men that were known to the city, bound by Ruuen to serve. For the boy that they had met it meant that no matter what was said to him, he was unable to even think of leaving the castle – Ruuen itself wouldn’t let him.

The blood was the key, the Count told them. The cost of the power used was paid in blood. As the Sacrifice it was the Ruuen boy’s purpose to keep the enchantments working, the city afloat and the bindings strong as well as power any additional magics desired. The blood of those who served held great power, though whether by birth or by Ruuen itself wasn’t clear.

While they boys considered the truths they had learned, the Count took his leave, the smile still on his face and far more secrets left unsaid. Though they looked, none of the youths would find him again nor any who had seen him, leaving them to act on his words without guidance. Emboldened by the knowledge and driven by their fear of Ruuen, the youths once more attempted to lure their friend from the church castle. They even went so far as to enter its halls once again and spirit the boy away, out of reach of the mystical bindings.

The youths were foiled however, as while they had been told many of the secrets of Ruuen there was one that they had not been.

The blood held more than just power and secrets, it held history. The blood spilled on those tapestries didn’t need to have any shape to depict the past. All one needed was the right tool, or the right eyes – as the servants of Ruuen had, to see as if through the eyes of the Sacrifice. Those who served were unable to communicate Ruuen secrets even amongst themselves and as the closest bound to Ruuen, the Sacrifice was the one who oft had the most to tell of the magics it was used to cast. Thus, reading the history from his blood was not unusual and it was through this that it was discovered his treachery. Their leniency in allowing the sweet boy, their Sacrifice, beyond the walls had allowed him to lead outsiders inside it. Outsiders who had somehow learned the truth and acted against them.

It was too late by then of course – unbeknownst to any of the boys they had walked into a trap. Even the Sacrifice himself was unaware of the truth; that his incarceration within the walls of Ruuen was as much to protect him and bind him from the outside as it was to use him as bait against those who opposed the use of the Sacrifice.

By the time the youths had found him in his chambers, the other servants of Ruuen had already surrounded them and the church castle itself trapped them inside.

What followed should have been the slaughter of the outsiders by the servants of Ruuen. Had it not been for the Sacrifice and in truth, the actions of the Count influencing another party, then their deaths would have been a forgone conclusion. Instead, before the servants could begin their attack, they were cut down themselves.

With the door now open to them the youths fled, taking the Sacrifice with them. Ruuen shuddered beneath their feet though whether out of protest as so many of its servants were killed or for another reason was impossible to know. The one who had killed the servants of Ruuen pursued them to the main hall where they had watched the blooding those months ago, but before any further attack could occur the church-castle shuddered again and a great roar was heard from each of the four wings.

Panicked and trapped the boys tried the great doors and found them locked and barred. The Sacrifice was of little help, clutching his head with spatters of the blood of the servants staining his pale face. Through wide eyes the teens sought an exit but it was only those of the Sacrifice who saw the Count stood off to one side inexplicably.

The youths had no idea what triggered the Ruuen boy to suddenly lower his hands from his head, his expression calm, and begin heading determinedly towards one of the pillars behind the stone table. He climbed up even as Ruuen shook once more and the great roars were followed by screaming from outside. The boy climbed up, reaching the balustrade and the level above, glancing back at the youths he had befriended so long ago, following him.

Not fast enough though as the door to the East wing burst open and a great beast entered. It was as grey as the stone walls of Ruuen but the hide was more like leather than stone. Bipedal but huge, its body shape was stocky and rotund. Its mouth held too many pointed teeth, so much that it appeared unable to close the mouth properly and instead it hung slightly open, slavering what looked like blood.

Despite its size and shape, the beast was fast. Fast enough that it caught up to the slowest boy in mere seconds, plucking him from his place half way up the side of the wall and thrusting the shrieking child into its wide-open mouth.

The demon creature took several long moments to crush the child within its maw, and while some of the other outsider boys stopped to watch in horror, the Ruuen boy continued to pull himself higher and higher up the familiar walls. Experienced hands clambered up, attempting to clear the path for those that might follow without costing himself too much speed. The sound of a second boy being devoured followed not long after, along with the sounds of horrified breathing not far behind as the boy closest to him resumed his terrified climb.

The heart of the church was also the tallest point but unlike the rest of the castle it was mostly one open area. While the high ceilings were common in the main areas, the roof of the Heart reached the very top of the building – there were no floors above it save for the spiralling path around the outside which was used to climb up there. It meant that there was a direct climb up to the very top, a hard one for a novice though which was why the weakest of the boys slipped a moment later, falling with a scream towards the beast that had been attempting to make its own way up after them.

The roof wasn’t the only exit though, just the one that the Ruuen boy was aiming for. Even now the magics of Ruuen allowed not for the consideration of its Sacrifice to flee. Instead he climbed, even while his fellows found the nearest window and all but threw themselves out of it, shouting after him but refusing to enter and try and drag him out themselves. He continued to climb, the demon catching up behind him without the other children to distract or delay it.

The boy climbed all the way to the top, racing up the tight stairwell and onto the roof, the tallest point of Ruuen. The great cloth chain that bound the city to the nearest island was above his head and he could see the entirety of the city too. He caught no sight of his friends, though they had likely long since fled the church by now. The source of the other roars were easy enough to see, if not directly than by the destruction around them. There appeared to be a larger beast than the one that had been chasing him, over to the North. It stood taller than many of the buildings around it and had crushed many more.

There was no time for further study however, as there came from behind him the sound of scraping claws on stone, a grating, cracking sound of something too large forcing its way through the tight stairwell. Panicked, the boy darted away from the doorway. Climbing instead up he reached up to the cloth chain and clambered atop it as he had never done before.

The fabric was tough beneath his hands as all Ruuen fabric was, decorated with the blood of the Sacrifices who powered it. Wrapping arms and legs around it he pulled himself forward, away from the castle and the beasts within it.

It was only due to the adrenaline that he was able to drag himself away from Ruuen, for it was not conscious thought that drove him forward but instead a mindless fear that led him away. Unable to think clearly, only react, the power of Ruuen in his blood stopped him from thinking about leaving – something he wasn’t currently doing. He thought only of pulling himself forward one heave at a time, away from the foul creature that stood now reaching up to the rope itself and followed a little after by another demon of similar appearance but slightly leaner.

The nearest one roared at him from its place on the rope and the boy gripped it tighter as it rocked and weaved in a way that Ruuen fabric never had before. Dragging himself further and further from the church castle without stopping, he soon found himself almost over the ports at the edge of the island. Suspended at such a great height it was somewhat dizzying but he couldn’t afford to delay or be distracted. The beasts behind him continued to catch up and he was barely over water before they were almost in reach of him.

By then his hands were raw from climbing and pulling himself along the rope. His blood spilled, for the first time without the intent to power an enchantment for Ruuen but instead just to flee. Glancing back, it was clear he was not fast enough to escape the beast pursuing him.

He looked at his hand, the blood covering it rather than sinking into the Ruuen cloth. The boy curled his fist and the blood shifted in his hand, no longer coating it but instead pulling together to form a shape like a stick. He brought it down behind him as if it were a short sword and his blood cut through the impervious fabric like it was butter.

The loss of tension as the rope lost its anchor point caused him to fall, clutching the fabric tightly as he did so – towards the landmass it’d been bound to. The second half dropped behind him taking the beasts with it, falling towards the city. The sound of screaming became louder as the whole island city shook and began sinking at once, but he wasn’t able to watch it as he hit the water a moment later and it was only his tight grip that prevented him from being dragged off.

Thankfully the fabric rose to the surface, taking him with it. Head bursting above the waves, the boy gasped in lungfuls of air, still holding on tight to the fabric even as he glanced back. The city was half under the waves now and only one demon was visible from here – the largest that he had seen earlier. The two that had been after him were no longer there – though he could see the other end of the rope where he had sliced it behind him.

He watched the city sink until it was entirely gone but felt no desire to return. He felt little in truth – Ruuen had controlled so much of him that with it absent he felt somewhat empty.

Still holding onto the rope, the boy turned away from what little was left of the city behind him, if it could be called as much – only scattered debris and the top of Ruuen’s spire was visible any longer.

Mechanically, he pulled himself along the rope towards the distant shore of whatever it was bound to on the other end.

He didn’t see the Count who watched with a smile at his handywork.

A city and an immeasurably old magic had been swallowed by the sea, because of what amounted to a few words and a few decisions made in kindness and in cruelty. Only the Count would know the truth of what happened here. How it had been the older brother of the Sacrifice that the Count had spoken to after setting those youths on the secrets of Ruuen. How a few words had been all it had taken to empower the brother into taking action, turning Ruuen against itself. While the two brothers had once been immeasurably close, their induction into Ruuen had all but dissolved that bond. As the youngest boy became the Sacrifice, the older had been taken as all other children were – bound within Ruuen, not to leave until he was an old man, his sole purpose to serve Ruuen.

With the Sacrifice bound so tightly he all but forgot he had a brother at all, the older brother had then watched with bitterness and envy as he was yet allowed outside the walls, against the rules. Resentment and power – for even the lowly servants had some power within their blood, and a few well placed words were all it really took to bring down the ancient order. All the Count had to do was plant an idea, give a little nudge to start the dominos falling and the older brother had summoned the demons himself, bringing centuries of life and stone down around him.

So much brought down by so little and all to show for it a powerful Sacrifice, so lost.

It was astounding, what a few words could do.

**Author's Note:**

> So, somewhat cliche but I dreamed this up last night and couldn't shake it out of my head till I wrote it down. My head is a strange, strange place.


End file.
